Firecracker
by CleavagySlutbomb
Summary: Faith must choose her path in life. This explores Faiths' family and her connection with her watcher, preslayer and preSunnydale. Gives a reason why Faith is the way she is.


Firecracker  
  
Chapter one.  
  
The blood. It didn't gush, like you'd expect. It flowed. Smooth, hot, alive. It flowed, ruining her favorite shirt, making the cheap cotton blend stick to her. Warm, sticky, staining.  
  
It was amazing how cold blood got so quickly. One minute it was snaking out of a wound, hot and pulsing, and the next it was chilling her, drying on her hands.  
  
He was looking at her. Breathing in short, stuttering gasps, holding his hand against his wound, as if it would help. He met her eyes, and she was the last thing he ever saw.  
  
His murderer.  
  
*~*  
  
Faith woke with a start, sitting straight up in her five by ten cell, breathing in short gasps and looking around. She could feel it again. The blood. It was so hard to wash off. She washed for hours, after it happened, and it was still there. She could still see it. Under her finger nails, in the little lines of her palm. The little fortune lines; telling her future. Telling her what she was to become.  
  
It just wouldn't wash off. She was so dirty.  
  
~*~  
  
She'd been in Los Angeles' Women's Correctional facility for three years now. She was starting to feel redeemed. Hell, she was starting to feel bored.  
  
She didn't do well in closed spaces. She didn't like being trapped. If you let yourself be cornered, there was no where to run to.  
  
When she was younger, she used to hide in closets when her mother got mad. Then the tight space was comforting. The feel of cheap clothes brushing against her face while she stayed there, protecting her, hiding her.  
  
Sometimes she kept little games in there, in case she got bored. She could stay in there for hours, with home-made cards, or the doll her father bought her before he left. She'd dress it up in clothes she made; tissues mainly, wrapped around the dolls body, held together by a elastic hair-tie. She was never frightened then, she had her friends to protect her. The coats and the doll wouldn't let Vanessa get to her.  
  
Faith tried to remember exactly when she stopped thinking of her mother as "mom" and when she started thinking of her as "Vanessa". She couldn't think of her as a mother. Mothers didn't get drunk and hit their kids. Mothers didn't bring home boyfriends every week that looked at you like they shouldn't.  
  
But she was digressing. She did that a lot nowadays. Not too many people to talk to, so she had to settle for herself. Not that she had voices in her head or anything. Sometimes she had other people's voices in her head, but she counted that on all the maiming and murdering she did, not her going all schitzo or anything, she'd already asked the prison shrink on their weekly visits.  
  
She heard Xander the most. He tried so hard to help her, and she mocked him. He didn't even want anything from her, just wanted to help. Not really her shining moment, what she did to him.  
  
All her life she'd inadvertently hurt people. The few friends she'd actually made she didn't keep. She wasn't really built for strong relationships. She was a "little firecracker." Burning bright and fast and beautiful, but over so quickly. Moments of blinding glory, and then she fizzled out.  
  
Don't get too close, you might get burnt.  
  
But it was different when she became a slayer. At least it started out that way. Her watcher, Mrs. Higgins, was assigned as her social worker. Her mother and she had gotten into a fight and this time, the neighbors really couldn't ignore the screams and the thumps as Faith fell to the floor. She was to watch over Faith, make sure she stayed alive, and she was to wait for Buffy to die. So Faith could take a turn at destiny.  
  
Which when you think about it, is rather morbid. But again with the digressing.  
  
Mrs. Higgins was pretty cool. Not that Faith would admit it, of course. She sat there with Faith a lot. Not talking, just listening, and sometimes biting her tongue to keep from correcting Faith.  
  
Faith visited a lot. Her appointments where for every other week, but she found herself there three, maybe four times a week. Just to sit there and talk.  
  
Faith loved the way Mrs. Higgins talked. Always so careful and so very, very British. When she explained things to Faith, it wasn't like she was teaching her or anything. It was like she was learning.  
  
Faith wasn't really one for school. In fact, she wasn't one for structured environments.  
  
But this was different.  
  
Faith had made a friend.  
  
~*~  
  
(Faith's 16th birthday)  
  
Vanessa stank of cheap vodka and soured milk. Her daughter was turning sweet sixteen today. Woman her age didn't have sixteen year old daughters. Woman her age had six year old daughters. Then again, she'd always been an early bloomer.  
  
Vanessa had downed some White Russians to commiserate the day her little Faith was born. She was feeling sentimental.  
  
Maternal instinct wasn't exactly strong in Vanessa, but it was kicking in full force today. As well it should. After all, sixteen years ago Faith was born, and life had changed.  
  
"FAITH! FAITH?" she half yelled, half sang.  
  
Faith winced when she heard her mother's voice. Birthdays where never a good time in the Evans household. She had hoped her mom would be too drunk to remember to come home. She would have the house to herself, entertain her new, older boyfriend, blow out a candle on a cupcake. Maybe she'd get a present out of the deal, if her mom felt guilty enough for missing her big day. Wasn't likely, but hey, a girl can dream.  
  
But she was here.  
  
"In here mom!" Faith yelled, applying her new lipstick Donny had gave her. Dark, the way she liked it. She looked older then she was.  
  
Vanessa made her way into the bathroom, wrapping her arms around her daughter. "Happy birthday, kiddo", she said, kissing Faith's cheek.  
  
"Thanks mom."  
  
Vanessa swayed unsteadily towards the kitchen, and poured herself another drink. "You aren't going out tonight, are you?" Vanessa swallowed heavily. "Cause I'm thinking we need a girls night. Just you and me, Faithy. We'll reminisce and I'll read "Goodnight Moon" or some shit like that. Mother/daughter bonding."  
  
"Can't bond tonight mom, I've got plans." Faith said, removing her mothers' arm from her shoulder.  
  
Vanessa stumbled forward. "Oh come on kid, aren't you always wanting more 'quality time'. Here's your chance. Come on, we'll have fun." She laughed.  
  
"I can't, I made plans a wicked long time ago, people are gonna be wicked pissed if I bail."  
  
"Oh, too cool to hang with your mom, huh? Think you're too old? We can both go to your little party."  
  
"Mom, seriously-"  
  
"Oh come on! I'm the cool mom! I popped you out, I deserve a little fun. I'll bring beer..." she tempted, clutching Faith again. More as an act of support then of love.  
  
"No thanks, beer is for losers." Faith said pointedly.  
  
"Don't think that you're any better then me, sweetie. You're not. You'll be me in a few years, as soon as you let someone in your pants. As if you haven't already." She accused.  
  
"MOM JESUS! Back off."  
  
Vanessa's' eyes narrowed. "You're not special, Faith. Don't think that you're special. This is it, baby." She opened her arms wide and spun, looking at the entire two room apartment. "This is all you'll ever be."  
  
"Yeah whatever." Faith wasn't in the mood to argue.  
  
"You're not fucking special! You hear me, YOU'RE NOT FUCKING SPECIAL, FAITH!" she threw the bottle at Faith's head, missing her, and splashing at the feet of Mrs. Higgins, standing at the door.  
  
Mrs. Higgins surveyed the seen and took Faith's hand.  
  
"Actually, Miss Evans, she is." And she led Faith out.  
  
~*~  
  
"Thanks for the save back there, Mrs. H." Faith said casually, trying not leap and hug the older woman.  
  
"It's not a problem. Faith, dear, you are a very special girl." Mrs. Higgins said gently.  
  
"Yeah, I'm real special. Got everything goin' for me, right? Now if I'd just apply myself..." Faith mimicked the things she'd been told dozens of times before by overworked teachers and social workers.  
  
"Don't be cheeky."  
  
Faith smiled. She loved when Mrs. H. went all British.  
  
"Now, it's your birthday and a very special one if I'm not mistaken."  
  
"How'd you know?" Faith was floored that someone actually remembered.  
  
"Your case file, dear. Now, if you'd like to go to that party you where speaking of, I'll drive you. But if not, we can get some dinner and talk."  
  
Faith thought for a moment. Party and fend off the attempts of some plastered dog, or have a dinner with Mrs. H.? "I'm thinking I blow off the partyness."  
  
"Fantastic. Do you like Italian?"  
  
"Totally."  
  
They set off.  
  
~*~  
  
Victoria Higgins tried not to notice how Faith ate. It was like the chicken parmesan was her last meal. And with her mothers temper, it very well could be. She simply could not let her slayer-to-be stay with her mother anymore. She couldn't stand Faith coming in with fresh bruises, and claiming to walk into walls. Couldn't stand watching Faith get that far off look in her eyes, and unconsciously shrink into herself.  
  
Her slayer was a damaged little girl, and it was infuriating to watch that woman abuse someone as wonderful and spirited as Faith.  
  
Faith worked her way through her second bowl of pasta, ordering another soft drink. "This is wicked cool of you, Mrs. H. everything is awesome."  
  
"Chew. Swallow. Speak. In that order, dear." Victoria said gently.  
  
"Oops, sorry."  
  
"Quite alright. Now, young lady, I meant what I said earlier. You are an extremely special, gifted woman. This has nothing to do with applying yourself or the lack there of. This is natural. You have a gift, Faith."  
  
Faith perked up, "Presents? I get presents too?"  
  
"No. Well, yes, actually, but that is beside the point. This isn't a material thing Faith. It isn't something you can hold or wear or eat. It isn't tangible. It's inside you. It's power. It's ancient and magical and you where chosen to hold it. Something made you worthy."  
  
Faith locked eyes with her would-be watcher. And cracked up. "Yeah, the power to turn the head of every greaseball within a 30 mile radius."  
  
"My dear girl, you have more power then you can imagine. It will come to you in time." She said gently.  
  
"Listen, I don't have any power. If I did, I sure as hell wouldn't be letting my mom beat the crap outta me. I wouldn't take the shit I do. I'm not a special powerhouse or whatever. I'm just a girl."  
  
"You're much more than a girl. Finish up, I'll show you."  
  
~*~  
  
"This is wicked creepy."  
  
"Hush now. Faith, how do you feel, standing here?"  
  
Faith surveyed the graveyard. She closed her eyes, and listened.  
  
"Like I should have gone to that party."  
  
Victoria smiled. Faith didn't lack for quick come backs, she'd give her that. "Don't be cheeky, young lady. Don't listen, listen." She emphasized.  
  
"Um, you're making the sense that isn't."  
  
"Shhh."  
  
Faith rolled her eyes and sat down on a headstone, waiting for Mrs. H to get off the "yay dead people" kick and drive her home. Hopefully her mother would be passed out by this time.  
  
Faith was starting to feel cold, even with the jacket. Faith didn't get cold normally.  
  
Actually, Faith didn't feel much of anything normally, but right now, her senses where on overdrive. Must be something to do with being in a graveyard at eleven at night with an insane British woman.  
  
The smell of fresh dirt assaulted her nose, and it got about ten degrees colder. Something was tugging inside her, itching for a fight. Telling her what to do. Commanding her to step back, gain some bearing and fight.  
  
She always trusted her instincts.  
  
She stepped back, and whirled around, just in time to see something emerging from the grave under the headstone she sat seconds before. Something dead, a little smelly, overdressed, and very, very ugly.  
  
'Kill it. Bad. Bad it's bad kill it. Head and heart, don't stop. Kill it, it's bad.' Her mind screamed at her.  
  
"Go for the heart, Faith." And Mrs. H handed her a wooden stick.  
  
"Are you freaking kidding me? This?" She waved the stake around.  
  
"The vampire is gaining his bearings, Faith, and you don't have slayer strength. This is not a good thing. Unless you want to finish your first day of being fifteen, I suggest you use that 'little thing'."  
  
"Got it." No snappy come back, no defensive tough girl act. Her gut was screaming at her, and she did what she was told.  
  
The Vamp was out except for one leg, which seemed to be stuck on his coffin lid. Bad for the vamp, good for Faith.  
  
She lunged at him, knocking him to the ground, and in turn, freeing his other leg.  
  
The Vamp blinked unsteadily at her, clearly taken aback that his dinner seemed to be attacking him. She plunged her stake into the vamp, using all her strength. It felt like driving into steel.  
  
The Vamp roared and flung Faith off of him, hurling her against the headstone of a neighboring grave.  
  
Faith was stunned for a second, but got up immediately after. If there was one thing Faith learned, it was how to take a beating.  
  
"Left side, Faith! Left! Honestly, didn't you take anatomy?" Victoria admonished.  
  
"Skipped it." Faith said, leaping on the vamp, and trying to plunge the stake into the left side of his chest.  
  
The Vamp tossed her aside and kicked her, sending her into another grave.  
  
"Son of a bitch, I'm gonna kick your ass!" Now Faith was pissed. She kicked him in the groin, and as he doubled over she punched him in the nose. He shielded his face from other blows, giving her a clear shot at the heart.  
  
She took it, and the vampire exploded into dust.  
  
"They explode?" Faith said, hushed.  
  
"Generally. Unless they are very, very old. Then they crumble."  
  
"Oh."  
  
~*~  
  
Faith was freaked. Faith was beyond freaked. She'd seen things in her life that where strange, and creepy, and downright disturbing, but they had all be explainable.  
  
But this. This went poof. This was freaky. This was not explainable. Not that Mrs. Higgins didn't try to explain it, but after the fifth "you're the chosen one, Faith. Into each generation a slayer is born..." blah blah blahs, Faith turned out and went to a happy mental place where there where no graveyards and nothing went poof.  
  
"Well, that isn't strictly true, the 'unto each generation' because the generation can have many slayers, just not at the same time. When one slayer dies, another is called."  
  
That caught Faith's attention. "So some chick dies and I get some power thing?"  
  
"You have the most amazing ability to simplify everything."  
  
"It's a talent. So. The current chosen one kicks it, and I'm the new slayer? And there is only one? That doesn't seem fair. I mean, all these vamps, there's gotta be more then one. And there is just one girl out there, that's supposed to kill them all? That's balanced."  
  
"Well, there are the Watchers, and some demons that work on the side of good, there are the powers that be... and the Council, of course."  
  
"And they're slayers?"  
  
"No. You're a slayer. Well, not yet, and Buffy Summers seems very capable, but slayers don't last long."  
  
"That's cheerful."  
  
"Hush now. Don't you see? This is special. You're chosen, you're a protector, you have power one can not fathom. You have a place in this world that no one else shall ever occupy. You are something this world can not understand because it is too great, too important."  
  
Faith took a moment to digest that. "So... what you're saying is that I'm a super hero?"  
  
"Somewhat."  
  
"Do I get a costume? I'm thinking leather."  
  
"No."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"No."  
  
"But-"  
  
"No."  
  
~*~ 


End file.
